


The Apple Tree

by Yesimawriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Case Fic, Creepy, F/M, Fear, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-19 04:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesimawriter/pseuds/Yesimawriter
Summary: Harry’s breath caught in his throat as his wand automatically lit up. “Lumos,” a familiar female voice lightly whispered in his ear and then giggled, making Harry shut his eyes tightly. It was a dream, it was just a dream. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. He was just having a nightmare, just imagining things that were happening inside his own head. “Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it’s not real?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based off of Prompt #1: Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?
> 
> Now before anything else, can I just mention how much I love this prompt? It immediately captured my attention and I just knew that I had to write it. So kudos to you Writcraft for giving me such an amazing prompt to work with. I truly hope I've done justice to it. Also I would like to thank my incredibly helpful beta MC because she honestly was a great help. 
> 
> Lastly, horror is my baby, so strap yourselves in for the ride and enjoy!

“Harry…Harry….” A window cracked open, the words floating in through the gap and straight into Harry’s ears. “…Haarrrry…” A whoosh of air burst into the room, making the curtains fly up and the windows swing open.

Harry groaned as the noise woke him up, reaching and trying to grab for his wand. “Lumos,” he quietly croaked, letting a small spark of light spill into the darkened room.

“Harry,” the voice whispered again, and it seemed to be coming from outside his house. Harry rubbed at his eyes, putting his glasses on and padding across the room to look outside. There was no one there. All that stood in the garden was a lone apple tree, which surprisingly never grew any apples. It had something to do with the soil and mud around the tree, which hadn’t been taken care of or tended to properly for a long time, according to Neville.

Harry sighed, closing the windows and locking them up before pulling the curtains shut.

“Harry,” the voice called out to him again and Harry froze momentarily. “I know you are here…I can see you….” Harry whirled around, trying to figure out and see who was there in his home, but he saw nothing. He swallowed heavily.

“Who’s there?” Harry’s voice shook as he cast a quick tempus charm. It was almost nearing an hour past midnight, and his bed seemed to be inviting him back in with the promise of a deep, satisfying sleep. Harry refused the offer as he walked away from it, opening the door to his room and stepping out of it. He was the only inhabitant of Grimmauld Place, but he still took comfort in closing the door to his room before going to sleep.

The door swung shut behind Harry, startling him and making him almost jump out of his skin. He shuddered each time his bare feet came in contact with the cold wooden floor, wishing he had put on his slippers before leaving his room.

Cold winds blew from behind him and Harry looked back, wondering where they were coming from; there were no windows in the room at the very back and even if there had been, the room was locked. One of the floorboards creaked when Harry stepped on it and suddenly, complete silence spread across the entire floor. Goosebumps erupted across Harry’s skin as he held up his wand and tightened his grip on it. He was ready to fight whoever was out there.

The house stayed silent for a few more seconds, letting Harry relax and continue his walk along the corridor, but as soon as he reached the top of the stairs, he felt someone breathing down his neck. Fingers touched the skin on his neck and trailed down his back. Harry must have turned around a bit too quickly, his foot must have slipped on the floor, that was the only logical explanation for why he went hurtling down the stairs. There were no hands that pushed him or haunting hollow eyes that glared with accusations at him, he hadn’t seen a freckled face or long ginger hair.

Harry stood up at the bottom of the stairs, limping slightly and rubbing at the bruise on his head. “You can’t hide from me, Harry, and you can’t run. I’ll always know where you are and I will always find you.”

The light from Harry’s wand suddenly went out and darkness poured back into his vision. He stumbled backwards as he tried to find a way to let his wand shine bright again. “Lumos…lumos…lu-lumos!”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as his wand automatically lit up. “Lumos,” a familiar female voice lightly whispered in his ear and then giggled, making Harry shut his eyes tightly. It was a dream, it was just a dream. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. He was just having a nightmare, just imagining things that were happening inside his own head. “Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it’s not real?”

A cackling laughter filled his head, forcing him to open his eyes. A sharp scream ripped from his throat as big brown eyes filled his vision, along with hair that was now blood-red instead of ginger and razor sharp teeth. The eyes had a cruel glint to them that made Harry scream even louder.

He woke up in his bed a second later, covered in sweat, his voice hoarse from screaming. Harry sighed in relief; it had just been a nightmare, it hadn’t been real. It was all inside his head.

Harry had been so relieved that he hadn’t noticed the pain in his leg and the way he flinched because of the bruise on his head when he let it hit the pillow. He had just fallen asleep because what was inside his head couldn’t be real, could it?

* * *

 

“Harry…Harry….” Hands shaking him, sun directly shining into his eyes and a weird buzzing noise that he recognised as his alarm. “Haarrrry!” A shrill, high-pitched voice had Harry sitting up with his wand in hand and eyelids half opened.

“Hermione,” Harry murmured sleepily and let the wand slip from his grasp, tense shoulders relaxing slowly. “What are you doing here?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you think? You’ve been late to all of your Auror shifts ever since you started working for the Ministry of Magic. I honestly don’t even know how you managed to reach them on time during your training.” Hermione’s face softened along with her gaze as Harry covered up a great, big yawn right in front of her. “I keep telling you that you shouldn’t live here all alone, Harry. It isn’t healthy for you, especially after the war and everything that we’ve been through. You know that our doors are always open for you.”

“I know that, and I appreciate your help and concern, but I’m fine. I swear it. It isn’t like I’m the only one suffering after the war, we all are, and I think I can handle it. If there is ever a time when I can’t, I’ll let you know.” Harry said, his sincerity showing through his tone.

Hermione sighed at that. “You promise you’ll let me know?” she asked.

“I will,” Harry nodded his head. He slid off of his bed, wincing a little as his legs hit the floor. As he walked towards his closet with a limp, Hermione almost began to question him, but then she remembered that Harry was an Auror, and one of the most capable ones at that. She was pretty sure he got bruises on the daily, so a slight limp was nothing to worry about.

With that thought, she got up. “Alright then, I’ll tell Ron that you’re up and about, and I’ll see you at work.”

Harry turned to acknowledge her statement. “Yeah, I’ll see you there,” he replied distractedly. Hermione didn’t ask him about that or about the way he was rubbing the back of his head with his face pinched in pain. She just wordlessly walked away.

* * *

 

“Harry…Harry….” He was drooling over his case files, eyes almost fully shut whilst his mouth lay fully open, and he was snoring. “Haarrrry, mate!” Ron exclaimed, pushing at him and making Harry snort.

Harry wiped the drool off of the side of his mouth and chin as he straightened up. His eyes widened just a second later, breath caught in his throat. “R-Ron,” he managed to choke out.

Ron blinked at Harry, his demeanor changing as he turned from being annoyed and slightly pissed off to being concerned about his best friend’s wellbeing. “What is it, Harry?”

“Behind you,” Harry stage-whispered shakily. Ron felt goosebumps erupting all over his skin as he slowly turned around, but there was nothing there.

“Mate—” Ron started to say but Harry didn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear him. All he could hear was a static sound ringing in his ears as his attention stayed fixed on Voldemort, who was standing right behind Ron. How could Ron not see him?

Harry’s lips parted, letting out a breath as black goo started sliding down Voldemort’s ears and nose, his lips opening up in a predatory smirk to reveal rotting golden-brown teeth. Harry pointed his wand straight at him.

“Avada Ke—”

“Harry!” Ron pulled the wand from his grasp, gaping at his best friend of years. “Mate,” he breathed, putting the wand down on his desk.

Harry’s eyes were wild, his hands all over the place as he tried to explain what he had seen, tried to convince Ron that it had been real. But it hadn’t been, Ron tried to tell him, it had all been inside his head.

Harry swallowed heavily as a small voice came alive in the back of his mind, the same voice that had accompanied that long, ginger hair, that freckled face, and those beautiful brown eyes. ‘Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it’s not real?’


	2. Chapter 2

Harry opened the case file, goosebumps erupting all over his skin. Ginevra Weasley, the file said, had gone missing on the eve of Christmas almost a year ago. There had been no explanation for it, no body to be found, nothing. Despite it being a high priority case, the case had to be closed a few months later since no evidence could be found on it.

The Weasley family had been broken after Fred’s death, but Ginny going missing had put them on the edge of despair. It had been their first Christmas celebration, mere months after the war. Harry had been getting these nightmares ever since. Ginny had been his first real girlfriend, the one person he’d had feelings for, and she’d been declared dead barely a year after the war. Harry’s life had been slowly falling apart before the incident, but it had been in shambles ever since then.

“Why are we looking at this file, I thought this was a cold case and all of the leads were dead ends?” Harry looked up at his new temporary partner who shrugged his shoulders, looking as if he could care less about the case.

“How should I know?” Malfoy questioned, busy trying to set up his desk. “I was only assigned this case because Weasley happens to be too close to it and I happen to be an expert in post-war murder cases, it seems.”

Harry flinched at that, gritting his teeth. “They think this has something to do with the war?”

“And the Death-Eaters, yes.” Malfoy nodded, seeming deep in thought. He looked over at Harry finally, meeting his eyes. “You were in a relationship with her, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.” Harry wondered why he hadn’t been kicked off of this case, too; after all, he was just as close to it as Ron was.

“I guess you are just too good of an Auror for them to let go of,” Malfoy added with a shrug, turning his back to Harry and ignoring the way Harry glared at it.

* * *

 

“You okay, Ron?” Hermione asked, gently putting her hand on top of Ron’s, despite knowing that he wasn’t.

Ron swallowed heavily and gathered up his strength when he felt Hermione lightly squeezing his hand. “No,” he breathed out, letting his head drop onto her shoulder. He took a shaky breath as he felt her arms wrapping around him. “I’m not okay, ‘Mione,” he whispered and felt tears welling up in his eyes, “but I wish I was.”

Hermione shuddered slightly as she felt Ron’s hot breath blowing against her ear, and trembled at his words. She wished that there was something that she could do to make him feel better, something to make the pain go away. She was hurting too, but she knew that there was no comparison between her pain and Ron’s pain, and she knew that she had to be strong for him, just like he was always strong for her.

Her grip on him tightened as she heard a broken sob escape from his mouth. “Ron—”

“I wish she was here, Mione. I wish she wasn’t dead, and I wish that Fred was here, too. I— I—” Ron buried his face deeper into Hermione’s shoulder as he started to cry, his body shaking due to the impact, and Hermione tried, she really did, but no matter how hard she held him, she didn’t think that it could ever be tight enough to put Ron back together and fix him. How could she un-break him when she herself was so broken?

She let a few stray tears fall down her cheeks and rubbed at them as Ron pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, and before Hermione could ask what for, he said, “She was your best friend. You were so close to her.”

Hermione felt a lump growing in her throat, one that almost rivaled the knot in her stomach. “Don’t, Ron. You were her brother. You have all the right in the world to mourn her, for as long as you want. My pain could never possibly compare to yours.”

Ron nodded his head at that, finally starting to get his emotions under control. “Do you think they’ll actually manage to close the case and catch whoever did this—Harry and Malfoy?”

“I know you might disagree with me when I say this, Ron, but I feel like if anyone could do it, it’d be those two. They might have been great rivals but I’m sure they’ll make an even better team.”

* * *

 

Harry stood up and walked away from his workspace, stifling a yawn as he stretched his muscles. He heard the clearing of a throat and turned in Malfoy’s direction. He was looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. Harry simply pointed to the clock on the wall as he said, “It’s time to go home, Malfoy. You wouldn’t want to overwork your extremely capable partner who also happens to have saved the entire wizarding world from a nose-less dickbag.”

Malfoy choked, he actually choked, on air and Harry grinned at his reaction.

“I’ll take that as a ‘No, of course not, Potter. You can go home now.’ Thank you, Malfoy,” Harry said, and just as he turned around, he heard Malfoy call out to him.

“Potter.”

Harry turned to face him, a questioning look on his face.

“About Ginny Weasley, I’m really sorry about what happened, and I will do my best to try and find her,” Malfoy said, determinedly.

Harry sucked in a huge breath and nodded his head. “Thanks, Malfoy.” Then he walked away, leaving the door to their Auror office wide open.

He could feel Malfoy’s eyes on his back the whole way.

* * *

 

Screaming. Harry could hear screaming in his ears and he sat up straight, unsure where the sound had originated from. His back felt a bit sore after having fallen asleep on the couch and he stumbled up off of it to stretch himself.

“My, my, what a sculpted back.”

Harry froze, all of his muscles tensing.

“You look every bit as athletic as you are.”

Harry turned around, expecting to see ginger hair and a familiar face. Instead, there was nothing there. He waited for a beat, and just as he was about to walk over to his room, he was knocked to the ground, falling onto his knees as the screams started up again.

It was multiple voices screaming directly into his head, all the same time. “No. No, please no,” he said, covering his ears with his hands. He shut his eyes tightly and was assaulted by images of Ron, Hermione, Molly, Remus, Sirius…everyone he knew. They were all screaming at him, calling out his name, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how he could stop it, so he curled up into a ball and rolled onto his side on the floor, tears—hot and salty—leaking from his eyes.

A soft, sudden hand gently lifted his face up and the screaming stopped. Harry didn’t dare to move a muscle, didn’t dare to breath, and his eyes were still closed. The hands were definitely a female’s, Harry could feel that, and he could also feel his heart thudding in his chest, could hear it beating so loudly that it drowned out the silence in the room. Lips tentatively touched his and Harry let out a gasp. It had been so long, so, so long since someone, anyone had touched him like this—so caringly and tenderly. He craved it.

He leaned into the touch as the soft, warm lips almost melted him, sliding slowly, leisurely against his as he parted his own lips and kissed her back. Both the hands were cupping his face now, and Harry wanted more more more of this. He couldn’t stop kissing, couldn’t stop wanting the warmth that came with the kiss and the touch, he couldn’t help but want more.

As he reached his hands out to meet soft skin, all he met instead was thin air, and suddenly he was all alone again, curled up in a ball, sleeping to his side on the floor. When the tears came this time, there were no emotions involved, no images or voices, no screams or sounds at all. All he was left with was isolation and the deafening silence, and the voice that lingered at the back of his mind, going, ‘It’s just happening inside your head, isn’t it Harry? It’s not real, right?’


	3. Chapter 3

Malfoy called out to him just as Harry was drifting off to sleep. “Potter!” Harry sat up straight in his chair and put his hands on his desk. “I might have found something.”

“What is it?” He asked curiously, lip twitching.

He blinked as Malfoy walked over to him and put an opened folder on his desk. “This,” he said, pointing to the picture on the right side. “Look at her!”

Harry looked at her, and then up at Malfoy. “What about her?”

Malfoy sighed and pulled his chair over, sitting down next to Harry without his permission. “Come on, Potter. You are not as stupid as you seem to be.”

Harry grappled with what to say before his eyes dropped to the folder again. “Malfoy, I— I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Malfoy sighed again. “What does she look like? Who does she remind you of?”

Harry’s heart lurched when he realised what Malfoy was hinting at. “Ginny,” he said, softly. “She looks like Ginny.”

“Almost,” Malfoy corrected, “but not exactly. Her features are quite the same, but everything else is different.

Harry nodded his head in agreement, staring at the picture for a long moment, and then at Malfoy. “What is your point, Malfoy?”

“My point is, Potter, that this girl is dead.” A knot started to grow in Harry’s stomach. “She went missing just a month or two before Ginny Weasley, and her case was also dismissed, same as Weasley’s. There was no evidence and the Aurors only found dead ends everywhere.”

“So you think these two cases are related?” Harry asked, trying to wrap his head around what Malfoy was saying.

“Not just these two, Potter. There have been several cases which all have females with ginger hair and dark brown eyes going missing, each one a month or two after the other, and in every instance, the investigation was closed for the same two reasons—lack of evidence and dead ends.”

Harry felt his heart sinking. “Then that means that whoever’s doing this—”

“—clearly has a thing for females with ginger hair and dark brown eyes,” Malfoy commented, and Harry saw red. As Malfoy got up and pushed his chair towards his desk, Harry went over to him and turned him around, hand on his shoulder.

His hands clenched into fists. “I think you should watch your mouth, Malfoy,” he roughly said, his grip on Malfoy’s shirt tightening.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off of Harry’s, not even flinching. “I wasn’t trying to aggravate you, Potter. I was merely stating the truth.”

“Well, stop then, because it’s making me aggravated,” Harry replied. His other hand had also gripped onto and scrunched up Malfoy’s shirt.

Harry had unknowingly started to advance on Malfoy, eyes blazing, hair wild, and he only realised it when Malfoy stopped taking a step backwards, his back hitting the wall.

Malfoy swallowed heavily and Harry’s eyes followed his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. “What are you going to do about it, Potter?” Malfoy asked, his voice coming out hoarse and slightly fearful.

He put his hand next to Malfoy’s head and leaned in slightly, still watching his Adam’s apple. His eyes went to Malfoy’s lips as he licked his own and leaned even closer to him, so much so that they were mere inches apart. Then he looked into those grey eyes and asked, “Scared, Malfoy?”

Harry wasn’t ashamed to admit to the heat of arousal that passed through him as soon as Malfoy’s eyes lit up with a fire of their own, his lips widening into a smirk. “You wish, Potter.”

And then Harry’s mouth was right beside his ear, his hot breath making Malfoy shiver, making Harry lick his lips again. “Yes, actually, I do.”

Their eyes met for a hint of a second before Harry pushed Malfoy against the wall, his eyes closed and lips pressing against Malfoy’s. They felt soft and smooth, and Malfoy parted his lips with a moan. Harry slipped his hand into Malfoy’s hair, fingers gripping them hard and making Malfoy arch into him. His other hand was still holding tightly onto Malfoy’s shirt, his lips sliding against Malfoy’s, and Harry dared to tilt his head, dared to push his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth. He was met with a groan and Malfoy’s tongue gently coming in contact with his own.

He pushed himself against Malfoy, his hardened member pressing against Malfoy’s thigh as they pulled away breathlessly. Malfoy was flushed a beautiful red and Harry was left wanting and needy. “Potter—”

“Malfoy,” Harry interrupted, letting the hand that had held Malfoy’s shirt go and slowly trailing his fingers down Malfoy’s chest. His other hand released Malfoy’s hair and came down to rest at the base of his neck. “I need—I want you.”

He looked straight into Malfoy’s eyes as Malfoy nodded, his hands grabbing hold of Harry and pulling him in for a rough, bruising kiss.

Harry’s hand was on Malfoy’s waist, his other still at the base of Malfoy’s neck as the both of them stumbled out of the Floo, with Harry walking backwards until his legs hit something. Before Harry could even think of stopping or saying anything, Malfoy’s hand already alarmingly close to his ass, they had Apparated to Malfoy’s bed and Malfoy was pushing him onto it, looming on top of him. As they stopped kissing, Malfoy’s face hovered near Harry’s. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you need and what you want from me.”

Harry flipped them on the bed so that Draco was underneath him, the hand at his waist slowly crawling inside his trousers, which he had undone at some point in time, to touch Draco. Draco shuddered and trembled, his eyes half-lidded, lip quivering as the words, “Fuck, Potter,” spilled from his mouth. Harry let his hand slowly move up and down Draco’s shaft, his own cock completely hard.

He never took his eyes off of Draco, even as the fingers of his other hand trailed all over Draco’s shirt, resolutely looking him straight in the eyes. “I want you to fuck me,” he said, “hard and fast and fucking rough. I need you to put your cock up my arse, Draco, and I want to ride it until you make me scream your name and writhe underneath you.”

He could feel Draco’s cock hardening, could feel it strain and tighten against his trousers, could feel Draco’s hand gripping the back of Harry’s shirt, and heard him say “Potter” in a whispered gasp.

So he continued to talk. “But I also want to fuck you hard and fast and rough and so, so fucking much. I need to put my cock up your arse and I need to feel you writhing under me, screaming my name until your voice is hoarse. I want to fuck you all night and all day until you’re so raw, you can’t think of anyone but me, can’t open your mouth without my name spilling from your lips, can’t close your eyes without seeing us fucking, and all you hear is us just going at it.”

Harry pulled away from Draco, his hand sticky and a lazy smirk playing on his lips. Draco had his eyes closed, his lips parted and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes slowly opened and Harry couldn’t help but let the smirk on his lips grow. Next thing he knew, Draco was on top of him again and Harry couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, because Draco’s lips were biting and licking and nibbling on Harry’s jaw, going down his neck and sucking, sucking on that sensitive spot near his collarbone, between his neck and shoulder. And Draco’s hands, his hands, one was at Harry’s waist while the other was gripping at Harry’s cock, moving slow and fast, up and down, in rhythm.

Harry couldn’t help the name that spilled from his lips. “Draco.” He felt Draco freeze even as his hand was retracting, just as sticky as Harry’s. When he looked at Harry this time, his eyes were filled with determination.

“If that is what you want, Harry. Then that is what you shall get,” Draco said, and leaned in to seal the deal with a deep, passionate kiss on the lips.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was walking at a regular pace, humming a familiar tune under his breath. It was twilight and not a sound or a person could be heard or seen. Harry felt the smile on his face growing and looked down to the knife in his hands. It was red, covered in blood. He dropped it, a feeling of dread and panic slowly rising up his chest, climbing and crawling up his throat as he realised that his hands resembled the knife. They were also red and covered in blood, and he screamed—

He screamed and sat up straight in bed, hands shaking. They were clean, completely clean, and he was wet. He decided to wipe his arm across his forehead and sighed, massaging his temples. As he looked at the open window, he realised that it was almost morning now, and the bed he had woken up in wasn’t his own.

A hand gently touched his shoulder and had Harry’s heart skipping a beat as he turned around to face Draco, who had a concerned expression on his face, his eyes showing worry. “Everything alright, Potter?”

Harry brushed Draco’s hand off his shoulder and nodded his head. “I’m fine. Go to sleep.”

“You don’t look fine,” Draco replied, and Harry was tired. So, so tired of people treating him as if he was something fragile, something to be delicately handled, or as if he was slowly going crazy, as if the place he truly belonged in was a mental hospital.

“Draco, just drop it, okay?” Harry said, rubbing a hand down his face. All he had wanted was a peaceful night’s sleep, was that really too much to ask for? Seems like it was.

“Look, Potter, I get it. You don’t want people to feel sorry for you, you don’t want them to pity you so you don’t tell them what’s bothering you and yet you expect them not to do the same thing to you. Well, hypocrisy aside, I don’t. I don’t pity you or feel sad for you, Potter, but you did just scream into my ear and startle me awake, and I would like an explanation for it.”

Harry blinked and looked at Draco, feeling a sudden warmth, a sudden fondness taking over him. His lips twitched up into an almost-smile as he spoke. “I had a dream where I was walking with a knife in my hand. It was covered in blood, and when I dropped it, I noticed that my hands were covered in blood, too.”

Draco had a serious expression on his face as he nodded and actually listened to Harry, he didn’t call him crazy or mental. “Do you have these nightmares often?”

“Sometimes,” Harry told him, “and sometimes, I hallucinate as well and hear whispered words in my ears.”

“Potter,” Draco drawled out his name, but more because of his sleepy state than anything else, “have you tried seeing someone? Getting some help?”

Harry swallowed heavily and said, “Yes. The medication doesn’t help.” He paused as Draco ran a hand frustratedly through his hair, and then softly continued. “It wasn’t this bad before, you know. Before Ginny’s death. But then it just started becoming worse.”

“You need to do something about this, Potter,” Draco said, and Harry noticed that Draco was suddenly closer to him, his hands hovering near Harry’s face as if he was about to touch him, but Draco was hesitating, unsure. Harry sighed and reached up to hold both of Draco’s hands, cupping his own cheeks in them.

He squeezed the hands gently as he mumbled, “I know. I’m trying.” He let go of Draco’s hands and practically melted as those hands still held his cheeks, their thumbs tracing the area under his eyes. Harry closed his eyes and reflexively leaned forwards, murmuring a soft, “Draco.”

He let out another sigh, this one considerably different from the last, and just a second later, Draco’s lips met his. They kissed soft and sensually this time and Harry knew then that this wasn’t just the one-time fuck he'd had in mind last night.

Yes, it had been exactly what he'd needed, an escape from all the pressure and the guilt and the nightmares, but now it felt different, it was more, and he could tell that Draco thought the same.

“Harry,” Draco said, and the way he said the name, did things to Harry— wonderful, brilliant things. So he decided that it was his turn to do brilliant and wonderful things to Draco too, not unlike the ones Draco had done to him earlier.

And the nightmare lay at the back of his mind, temporarily forgotten. It was happening inside Harry’s head, after all, which meant that it wasn’t real, right?

* * *

 

He reached home, a huge smile on his face, but it faltered when he landed upstairs and saw that the door was open. It was the door to the locked room, and it was open. Harry stared at it for a few seconds; nothing happened. He trudged towards it, trying to gather every bit of bravery he could muster, and as he reached the door, instead of closing it he stared inside. Stepping in, he headed to the singular window inside the room and leaned into it. All he could see from there was the apple tree that never grew any apples, but as he started to walk away, he could swear he saw a flash of pale blond hair. His heart stilled momentarily in his chest as he closed the door to the room and locked it. When he reached his own room and looked at the scene, there was nobody there.

Harry opened up his case files as he settled on the living room couch with a mug full of hot chocolate. He sifted through the pictures of numerous girls, their unique features all blurring down to the brown eyes and that ginger hair. He saw Ginny in all of the images. Ginny, who somehow reminded him a lot of his own mother. Harry shook his head, rubbing at his teary eyes. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night but the little bit that he had gotten had been incredibly wonderful.

He remembered Draco’s arms around him, his voice enveloping Harry like a tight blanket and his breath on the back of Harry’s neck making Harry shudder. He couldn’t really help the small smile on his face. Suddenly the mug in Harry’s hand cracked before breaking just seconds later, sending hot chocolate spilling onto his tattered, old pyjamas and shards of shattered ceramic flying to the ground.

Harry immediately yelped, even as he reflexively covered his face with his hands, the sharp ends of the pieces of ceramic cutting across his arms. The hot chocolate left a muddy brown spot on one of Harry’s favourite pyjamas and felt like it was burning and biting into his inner thigh. Harry was sure that it would leave a bright red spot and a blooming patch of burned skin come morning.

“Why?” Harry asked. “Why are you doing this?” He swallowed heavily, tears that he had held in quickly falling down his red-stained cheeks. Harry was tired of this, of everything. He took a deep, shaky breath and began to clean everything.

“You know why,” a voice echoed through the place. Harry looked up at nothing in particular. There was nothing to be seen. An image of Draco came into his mind, and he shuddered as he pursed his lips and continued to clean. Yes. He did know why, why she just couldn’t seem to let go, and he needed to close this case once and for all.

* * *

 

The next morning, Harry woke up quite early and decided to go out jogging. It was a gloriously sunny day and Harry saw a bunch of people out and about, going to work or different places in different directions. He greeted everyone he saw with a cheery smile and he felt unreasonably happy. But despite the positivity running through his veins, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched and, worse, followed. He kept stopping and slowing down, looking behind him often enough that people began giving him weird looks.

As he stopped to catch his breath, finally deciding that he was just paranoid even as he was unable to resist looking back again. He froze. He’d caught sight of pale blond hair that had looked eerily similar to the glimpse he’d seen near the apple tree from the window of that locked room. He froze because that pale blond hair looked so, so familiar. It looked just like Malfoy’s.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next few days, Harry started noticing the pale blond hair following him everywhere he went. If he were inside the house and chanced a glance out of the window, he was mostly sure he would spot the hair outside. He resisted the urge to mention it to Draco, wanting to figure out what was going on before he did. They were still trying to find a lead for their case, or for any of the other cases they’d linked to Ginny’s, and Harry could tell that they were getting close. Every time they talked to the suspects of the cases or went to visit the crime scene or talk to the families, they found out something new that they hadn’t known before. It seemed a lot like useless information to Harry and he said as much to Draco, but Draco wrote all of it down anyway.

The thought of finally catching whoever was responsible for the deaths of all of those innocent women, for the death of Ginny Weasley, made Harry’s throat run dry. They were going to solve this case, of that Harry was sure. It wasn’t like the last time because this time, he had Draco with him, which meant that the murderer had less of a chance to get away.

Draco rubbed at his nose before getting up, trying to stifle a yawn. “I think that’s enough for today.”

Harry looked up from reading one of the files on his desk and stood up with a nod of his head. As Draco leaned against his own desk, looking at Harry with his intense grey eyes, Harry asked him, “Well what do we do now?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a meaningful look. With a slight tilt of his head and a smirk, he said, “I’ve never had sex on an office desk before.”

It was just the two of them. They had stayed late into the night because Draco had insisted on it and Harry had willingly obliged, both wanting to close the case as soon as possible. Harry felt heat pooling in his stomach with the anticipation of what was about to happen between him and Draco. “It has always been a dream of mine to get fucked hard on an office desk.”

And suddenly Draco was on him, his lips on Harry’s, and his hands removing Harry’s clothes. Harry did the same, taking off Draco’s belt and undoing his trousers. Draco’s shirt stayed on, though. He had insisted that it stay on the first night and Harry hadn’t dared to think of why, at least not yet.

They both froze in their movements as the lights went off. Harry felt a cold drift of air enveloping him and goosebumps spreading across his skin. Draco said something to Harry about going outside to check on what had caused the power outage before going out of their office fully clothed, leaving Harry all alone.

It was dark and quiet and Harry wanted to crawl under his desk and close his eyes to rid his mind of its paranoid thoughts, of the voice that kept screaming ‘something’s going to happen’ ‘something very, very bad is going to happen’. He slid off of his desk, buttoning up his shirt and pushing a hand through his messy, black hair. “I’m fine,” he said to himself. “I’ll be fine.”

Just then, he heard footsteps. They were coming from a distance, from outside the office, but every second they got nearer and the sound of the footsteps grew louder. “It’s Draco. It has got to be Draco.” Harry’s breath caught in his throat as the footsteps suddenly stopped. There was an explanation for that though, a very good explanation for it, there had to be.

Harry found out what it was when he felt a tongue licking the back of his neck. Fingers traced the goosebumps on his skin and Harry bit his lip so hard it almost bled. This wasn’t happening, not really. Harry was hallucinating, he was delusional, he was crazy. “But are you?” A voice whispered in his ear. It was the voice that he always heard, that small voice at the back of his mind. “Are you crazy? Or is all of this actually real?”

Before Harry could dare to respond, the lights came back on and Draco’s head peeped into the office. Harry was already up, crossing the distance between them, and hugging Draco before he had so much as taken a step back into their office. “Potter,” he said as he hugged Harry back, and Harry’s arms tightened around him, “Are you okay?”

“No,” Harry whispered softly, “I’m not okay.” He pulled his head back, just enough to be able to look Draco in the eyes. “Take me home?” He asked.

Draco simply nodded before pulling him back into the hug.

* * *

 

Harry stepped over a rock, his steps quickening as he looked back. He couldn’t see anything but he was sure, he was absolutely and completely sure. He suddenly took a deep breath and came to an abrupt stop. The pale blond bumped into him. Before he could disappear into thin air and increase the level of Harry’s paranoia, Harry spun around, grabbing Draco by his wrists.

Those grey eyes visibly widened as Draco realised that he had been caught. Harry could feel Draco’s heart beating faster through his wrists and he stepped closer. “Why?” Harry asked him. “Why are you following me?”

Draco swallowed heavily, and Harry shifted his weight from one foot to another, a feeling of dread catching up to him. “I don’t—” he started to say, but stopped as Draco leaned into him.

He stopped near Harry’s ear and whispered to him, “Dead bodies make great fertilisers.”

Just as Harry was pulling away, trying to find an appropriate response, he realised that Draco was gone. Harry had loosened his grip on Draco’s wrists and Draco had immediately Disapparated away. Harry stared blankly at the spot that Draco had just been occupying. Dead bodies make great fertilisers, he’d said. Dead bodies make great fertilisers. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Harry found out soon enough.

* * *

 

When he showed up at their office the next day, Draco acted normally, the way he always did. It was like that incident where Harry had caught Draco stalking him had never even happened. Harry was half convinced by the time their lunch break arrived that he’d probably imagined the whole thing, but he had held Draco’s wrists and he’d seen him and felt his heartbeat. Draco had been there and he had been real.

‘Just because it's happening inside your head doesn't mean it's not real,’ that cryptic voice at the back of Harry’s mind came alive. Harry ignored it and blocked it from his mind, choosing to concentrate, instead, on the funny story that Draco was telling him and trying to recreate with his hands. Had he just made up the whole thing in his mind or had it actually happened?

‘Dead bodies make great fertilisers.’

“Your place or mine?” Draco asked a distracted Harry Potter. Harry looked at the time, it was almost midnight.

“Yours,” Harry replied, wide awake all of a sudden. He knew very well what those words meant when uttered in that way, and he knew exactly what to expect.

“You know, Potter, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you never invite me over to your place.” Harry raised both his eyebrows as he rounded on Draco, who was still sitting at his desk.

“That’s because I like going to your place. My place just gives me the creeps,” Harry replied with a shudder. Draco finally looked up at him, grey eyes questioning, as if they didn’t really believe him. Harry felt that feeling of dread returning to him and quickly pulled Draco up on his feet, pressing a breathless kiss to his lips.

“Fine,” Draco murmured in between the soft and sweet kisses Harry kept giving him. “We’ll go over to mine.”

Harry felt him shudder, exhaling a breath as Harry’s fingers caressed a bare patch of skin underneath Draco’s shirt. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” And Draco simply groaned, grinding his member against Harry’s.

So make it up to Draco he did. They went over to Draco’s and before long were on his bed, stripped completely naked, or at least Harry was as he pushed his cock up Draco’s arse. He had buried his head into Draco’s shoulder, murmuring Draco’s name in a continuous loop. One of his hands gripped the back of Draco’s shirt tightly, while the other held onto Draco’s silky, smooth hair. Draco’s hands were on his arse, squeezing it lightly as he called out Harry’s name, arching upwards and completely into him.

Harry had an intense urge to trail his lips and tongue down Draco’s neck, which lay open for the taking, as if waiting for Harry to do exactly that. So he dipped down, wanting to mark Draco as his own. And he did. They both came as Harry lifted his lips from Draco’s bruised neck, their breaths mingling with each other’s as they rode out the last waves of pleasure until, finally, Harry practically fell on top of Draco, spent.

He shifted to the side, pulling out of Draco and falling backward onto the bed, when Draco told him that he needed to go to the bathroom to take a nice, long and hot shower. He asked Harry if he wanted to join him but Harry declined. He was tired and sleepy, and he knew that having a shower with Draco would only end up with them having shower sex, because Draco completely naked with water droplets stuck to his body would be too great a temptation for Harry to resist.

Harry turned his head to see Draco walk away, and yes, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was most definitely checking out Draco’s ass. He licked his lips at the sight, waiting until Draco had closed the door behind him to get up. There was something that had caught his eye before, and Harry was curious to check it out.

He put his clothes back on and walked out into the balcony. He held his breath at the sight of the beautiful night’s sky, it was quite the sight, but his focus quickly shifted over to the plants that were kept in a pattern that was aesthetically pleasing. Harry blinked and bent down to look at the plants, closely examining them.

They all seemed so unbelievably fresh and perfectly green that Harry was extremely impressed with the care and dedication that Draco seemed to show his plants. That was, until Harry was hit with a grave thought.  He remembered what Draco had said to him the other day when Harry had caught Draco following him.

“Dead bodies make great fertilisers.”


	6. Chapter 6

Draco walked out of the shower, feeling more relaxed and himself than he had the whole day. As he dried his wet hair with a towel, emerging into the bedroom fully clothed, he noticed that Potter wasn’t sleeping in the bed. He confusedly looked around the room, but Potter was nowhere to be seen.

“Potter?” Draco called out to him, and halted for a hint of a second when he saw the door to the balcony open. He sighed and went to it, but Potter wasn’t there either. He closed it and walked out of his bedroom and along the upstairs corridor. He froze as he noticed that the door to one of the rooms was open. It was a room he didn’t really frequent much.

Confused, he walked inside and his eyes widened. There were photos everywhere, photos of women with ginger hair and dark brown eyes. Most were multiple pictures of the women he and Harry had been searching for ever since they had found a connection between Ginny and them, but there were some unknown faces, too. Ginny’s face was the most recurring one amongst all of them, taking up at least half of each of the four walls.

As if that wasn’t horrifying enough, Draco noticed that the door to another one of his rooms was also open. He ran to it and as he stepped inside, all he could see was Potter. Pictures of Potter, hundreds of them, littering the walls and the ceiling, plastered onto them. Before Draco could even think of his next move, before he could think of what he could possibly say or do next, a voice rose up from behind him.

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad; his hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's truly divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord." It was Potter’s voice that recited the well-known poem to Draco. Draco turned around to see Potter’s gorgeous green eyes filled with hatred, his tone colder than Draco had ever heard it before. “It turns out that Ginny was never the one who wrote this poem. It was you all along.”

Draco tried to open his mouth to say something, but Harry beat him to it. “Just like it was you who has been killing all of these girls all along, and for what? Did you really hate Ginny that much? Were you really so obsessed with me, Malfoy, that you killed all of those innocent women who looked like Ginny? That you killed Ginny just because I loved her so, so much? Because you do realise that I could never ever love you that much, right? I hate you, I’ve always hated you, and you’re a monster!

I knew that it was you who was following me ever since we began to work on this case together, ever since we slept together. But I didn’t say anything because I thought that I was hallucinating the whole thing, that I was delusional. You took advantage of me, Malfoy, and I never would have found out that you were behind all of this if I hadn’t noticed the plants, if you hadn’t told me your secret. You’re a psychopath, Malfoy, and you make me sick!” Harry spat at him before turning away from Draco and saying, “Arrest him! I never want to see his face ever again!”

Aurors came to magically bind him and one of them said, “If you want to confess or tell us how you did it, do it now and we’ll go easy on you.”

Draco leveled him with a blank, neutral gaze and replied, “I would like to speak to my lawyer, please.”

Another Auror snorted and said, “Of course he does. Take him to the Ministry so that we can question him properly, and someone call up his lawyer.”

“Does anyone know who his lawyer is?”

“I think it’s that Zabini guy.”

“Ah, Blaise Zabini, of course. Of all the people it could be, it had to be him. He’s one of the best lawyers the wizarding world has ever had.”

“Why else do you think he’s working with the Malfoys?”

* * *

 

Harry reached home, his mind a jumble of emotions but the most prominent one was relief. The case was closed. It was over, it was finally all over with. It was a shame though, about Malfoy.

He paused upstairs at the opened door. It was the door that led to the locked room, and it was open again. Harry blinked and had a sudden flashback to all of the times Malfoy had berated Harry for leaving the door to their Auror office open. Every time Harry had left the office or had entered it, he had always left the door open and every single time, it had resulted in Malfoy scolding him to close it. Harry’s heart ached just thinking about those times.

He shook himself out of memories and went to the door. As he arrived there, he leaned against it and thought about what the other Aurors had been saying. Draco Malfoy had called for his lawyer. His lawyer was Blaise Zabini, and Blaise Zabini was famous for never having lost a case in his entire career. This meant that sooner or later, Malfoy would be free because he would be proven innocent, and Harry couldn’t have that happening.

Harry subconsciously walked into the room and stared out of the window, deep in thought. He would have to go meet up with Zabini so that he could talk to him and plead his case. He had to convince Zabini of Draco’s wrongdoings and persuade him to turn to Harry’s side. Harry knew the possibility of that happening wasn’t great but he would have to try and succeed somehow.

Suddenly, having found a temporary solution to one of his problems, Harry was pulled out of his thoughts, and that’s when he noticed it. The apple tree in his backyard, the one that never grew any fruit and the only thing that could be seen out of that window, had a single, red and ripe-looking apple hanging off of one of its branches.

Harry’s eyes widened as he ran, practically sprinted, out into the yard. He frantically searched for a ladder and was back with it in mere seconds. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the succulent fruit and began climbing up the ladder. He held his breath as he stood face to face with the apple. It looked almost sinfully good, too good to eat, and Harry wondered if it tasted as delicious as it looked. He certainly hoped so.

Plucking the fruit off of the tree, Harry took a large, juicy bite of the apple and moaned because dear Merlin, yes, it did. It tasted so, so good. He wiped the juice off of his chin and nodded his head as the thought cemented itself into his brain. He was definitely going to be meeting up with Zabini in the next few days and using his skills of gentle persuasion to the fullest.

Harry stepped down the ladder and when he reached the base, went to put it back in its place. He was still holding onto his apple with one hand and enjoying each delicious bite. After all, he had to celebrate the fact that he was finally free from it all somehow, right?

He came back and stood in front of the apple tree, staring at it for a long moment before he shook his head and turned around, walking away from it. A small smile spread across his face, marring his features, turning them slightly darker and a lot more dangerous. Taking one last bite of the apple, he threw the core over his shoulder.

He looked behind his back to see where it had fallen, and then faced his house again, a full grin on his lips. It turned out that Malfoy had been right about one thing, after all.

Dead bodies did make great fertilisers.


End file.
